She was blond, not more than three inches shorter than Shayne, and carrying at least as many pounds which were strategically distributed. She paused, just inside the studio, and studied the redhead with a direct and pleasant gaze that was frankly curious.
She said, “Something I can do for you?”
“That will depend on a lot of things,” said Shayne with a grin. “Are you married, for instance, and is the guy the jealous type?”
She didn’t smirk or look coy. She merely continued to study him impersonally. “You didn’t come here to ask me that.”
“No. It just popped out unintentionally. Is Jack around?”
“No. You a friend of his?”
“From way back. I’ve always felt kind of sorry for Jack, knowing his wife, but he never mentioned you.” She showed visible signs of thawing and took a couple of steps forward, as though about to ask him to have a seat, when the telephone in the back room rang. She said, “Excuse me a minute,” and went to answer it.
Shayne followed her down a short hall to a door on the left which opened into a small, cluttered office. The telephone was on a desk to the right of the door, and her back was toward Shayne as she leaned over to answer it.
She said, “No. He won’t be in today,” paused, and reached for a pencil. She jotted down a telephone number, then said, “I’ll have him call you tomorrow or next day,” and cradled the Receiver.
There was a strong overhead light, and, lounging against the threshold watching her, Shayne saw that she had the clean fresh coloring of a buxom farm girl. He was much closer to her here in the smaller room, and when she turned to face him his mouth spread in a slow grin.